it has been tearing me apart (what do we owe?)

yearning

It was dark outside, the water from recent rain creating puddles on the sidewalk. The fluorescent lights from the bar beside him make him feel almost like he's dreaming, but he couldn't be that lucky. He opens the doors to the cheap, run-down building he will be spending most of the night, and he's rushed with the sounds of glasses, laughter, and argument. The noise fills his brain, and for a second he can't think anymore, but his train of thought is soon back on the rails, and the empty feeling he knows all too well is back.

Enter Binglebottom. A 25 year old office working loser, who's still stuck on the guy he fell in love with in high school. Shit Smearer. After not seeing him since he was 18, Shit Smearer finally rams into his life as the manager of a rival business. It threw his life into the meat grinder, threatening his job, but most importantly his heart. It physically hurt to see Shit Smearer. Shit Smearer had always had a handsome face, he knew that, but so did everyone else. Women would constantly gather around him, wanting to go get a coffee or to exchange numbers. It made him ache.

Present time. He goes to sit on a stool in the bar and orders something. He doesn't know what. He just wants something strong, something to make him forget about the entire week. The bartender is talking to different customers, so he's stuck there in a seat that would only be comfortable if you were drunk off your mind, but at least he gets some time to rest.

"What do we have here?" A familiar cocky voice says. Binglebottom turns around, and his jaw goes slack with awe as he realizes it's Shit Smearer. It's fucking Shit Smearer. In his work clothes, at this nasty bar that is only approachable if you know that you're able to take a shower afterward.

"What, what the fuck? Why are you here?" Binglebottom asks, eyes still wide from the initial shock.

"I could ask you the same thing. Does my little rival have something to drink over?" Shit Smearer's signature smirk along with his cocky attitude sends a chill down Binglebottom's spine, but he can't help but to fall into it. It's why he fell for Shit Smearer in the first place.

"It's just been a long day. With work n shit. I needed to get the edge off." Binglebottom looks away, trying to wipe the smile off his face.

"Care if I join you? You know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer." Shit Smearer sits down on the stool next to him, not even waiting for an answer. It's as if he knows Binglebottom would say yes.

"Why do you keep saying we're enemies?? We're just in companies that don't exactly like each other. Plus, we used to be friends, remember? It's not as if we hate each other." The bartender finally comes over, and Binglebottom decides to order something light instead. He wanted to be sober to talk to Shit Smearer.

"Come on, man. Have a little fun. " Shit Smearer pats Binglebottom on the back and he blushes. 

"God, I hate you and your pretty face." Binglebottom mumbles

"What did you just say?" Shit Smearer blushes slightly, looking at Binglebottom surprised.

"What? Oh- I-," Binglebottom trips over his words, not knowing that he said his last thought out loud, "I said I hate your petty ass!" he barely gets the last word out as he covers his face up to hide his embarrassment. 

"Yeah, sure" Shit Smearer smiles.